Your Move
by Alix the Alien Cyborg
Summary: Harry is at the Burrow for Christmas, and gets so much more than he bargained for during a chess game with Ron. Harron.


**Fandom: **Harry Potter  
**Author:** Alix the Alien Cyborg  
**Rating:** T  
**Pairing(s):** Harry x Ron  
**Warnings:** yaoi

So I wrote this at like…three in the morning. The plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. The style's a little different than my usual (sleep deprivation should be considered a style all of its own), but I like it. Of course, it's a pairing I don't ship, but eh, it was three in the morning…

I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, you really think he'd have married Ginny? Or even been straight?

Please review, please don't flame. If you see any grammar/spelling mistakes, as always, don't hesitate to tell me.

**Your Move**

Harry tugged on a strand of his hair thoughtfully. The chessboard in front of him was taunting him, teasing him-literally. The little marble and ebony chess pieces were calling out insults and mockeries-even the ones on Harry's team! Couldn't blame them, though. He was fairly awful.

Across the table, Ron smirked. He had Harry in quite the predicament. There was no way out-Ron could see that. Even he wouldn't be able to escape this situation, and he was a far better chess player than Harry. There was no doubt in his mind, he was going to win. Casting a glance around his little Christmas-decorated Burrow room, he began planning strategies for the next round.

Harry let out a little sigh. Ron gave him an amused look-one that clearly stated, are you still playing, 'cause darling I won. Except, Ron wouldn't phrase it _quite_ like that. Harry began to think outside of the box. He needed to do something not-quite-orthodox if he was going to come out on top here. The beginnings of a plan formed in Harry's head.

Ron watched Harry with growing suspicion. He'd started to smile, and that couldn't bea good sign. Someone as awful off as Harry would have to be pretty thick to find something to smile about in this situation. But at last! Harry had picked up a rook and moved it. Well, well,well Harry my boy. You've chosen an option that will give you a few more moves before the guillotine blade comes down. Ron smirked and reaching across, moved a knight one step closer to his destination-the unguarded queen. He was just settling back into his seat when his brain registered whooshing air, movement and then suddenly-

WHAM!

And then Harry's lips were on Ron's, and Ron was frozen. His brain had turned into a pile of mushity-mush. Mush. That was an interesting word. It could be used to describe how Harry and Ron's mouths were connected-by being mushed together. Which reminded Ron. His best friend and the boy he'd sorta-maybe-definitely loved for the past two years was kissing him, and he was thinking about the word mush. Finally, he managed to make his mouth move against Harry's lips, and the ravenette responded with gusto. Lost in the kiss, Ron didn't notice Harry's deft fingers rearranging the chessboard beneath them.

And then Ron's mouth was cold, and he realized Harry had returned to his side of the chessboard. Feeling a small pang of loss, he opened his eyes to find Harry giving him a smirk rather reminiscent of Malfoy. The thought made him shudder, and he decided he had better things to think of than Malfoy after a kiss with Harry. The other boy's lips were flushed and he looked somehow…triumphant? And that's when Ron noticed the chessboard.

"You!" he cried. "You rearranged the chessboard!" He felt a small pang in his heart. Had that been Harry's only motivation behind the kiss?

"And exactly where is this proof you have?" Harry asked smugly. This had played out perfectly. Not only was he now two moves from 'winning' the game, he'd finally gotten a chance to kiss Ron. And judging from the redhead's flustered-ness now and his heated reaction during the kiss (once the boy had finally figured out what was going on) his feelings weren't as unrequited as he'd feared. Harry smirked and moved a knight. The pieces were now subdued,fuming silently over this 'blatant show of un-sportsmanship'. (Ron's chess pieces weren't the biggest Harry fans.) "Your move," Harry announced.

Ron glowered. I need to make a move, he thought. Make a move, Ron.

Make a move.

Make a move.

Make…

And then it was Ron leaning over the table, Ron capturing Harry's lips in his own.

The kiss was sensual and sweet and Harry tasted like peppermint from the candy canes they'd eaten earlier and Ron slipped his tongue across Harry's lower lip and Harry moaned, and it sent shivers down Ron's spine and all too soon, it was over and gone and Ron was sitting in his own chair. This time it was Harry looking disoriented and flustered and in Ron's eyes, oh so perfect. Harry's eyelashes fluttered and then opened properly. Ron arched an eyebrow at him, now the smug, triumphant boy. He'd swept the pieces clear off the chessboard during the short-but-perfect snog-ette. Harry's eyes widened once that fact registered in his brain. Ron stood clear off his chair, and went to kneel beside Harry.

"Your move," he whispered, and Harry leaned forward for their third-and most perfect kiss.

They were a bit too busy that afternoon to bother setting up another game of chess.


End file.
